Time to Cry Tuesday – There’s no place like camp

This sign hangs on the owner’s house as you enter camp. It just about says it all. It is hard to explain this to someone who has never been fortunate enough to find the kind of connection my family has found to this place. I have written about it before, more than once, actually. But I always seem to find just one more way of articulating a place that has meant as much to me as any other in my life.

It’s not just the camp, although it is sort of the sacred ground of both my own childhood and that of my kids. But the surrounding area is so amazing. There is a clarity about being there. The way the air smells. How the water feels. The chill of the early morning and the hot sun of midday. The stars at night. There is nothing like the great expanse of a starry night in those mountains. It is a sight I will never tire of.

No cell service. Winding roads through beautiful mountains. Clear lakes. It is all so untouched. Or as untouched as it gets these days. Back when we were kids there were party lines and no new houses. Cell hot spots and new homes have sprung up in the closest town, but not a lot. For the most part the place looks very similar to the way it did 30 years ago. What a gift, to be able to visit the scene of your childhood with so little changed. There are no words to explain that elation.

And the best part. The part that I will never tire of being thankful for, is that my kids know the exact same feeling. Their bond may even be stronger. Not just because it is still so current, but because these times allow them to keep the link to all those people so effortlessly.

Life is long and camp is short, but if you are lucky, you can carry it with you till the day you check out.

Time to Cry Tuesday – Little Shirt

When you have lived in a house as long as we have, things have a habit of lodging themselves in the back of places and you never know they are there.

Until, you have to move your massive armoire over six inches and you have to empty the entire thing out. There, on the top shelf, behind the long underwear and old sweaters that have that funky stripe of dust on them because they haven’t been unfolded in countless years, was the t-shirt above.

Size 24 month.

That belonged to the girl who will turn 21 YEARS next month.

Freaky!

How it got there I will never know. It was not a particularly favorite shirt, although it does say Delray on it and Mom, I am sure we bought it at that little place we loved on Atlantic Avenue. So although the shirt itself does not hold any particular memories of little Jana, the days we spent in Florida when she was young surely do.

I held up that little shirt and a rush of memories came flooding in. The smell of suntan lotion mixed with Desitin (she used to eat so much sand it was rough going on the way out). The way she could sit in a hole that Gary dug for her on the beach for hours. Standing at the shoreline with each of us holding one of her chubby little hands and lifting her up as the waves crashed on her feet, her squealing with delight each time as if it were the first. The cry of ‘five more minutes’ when we told her it was time to get out of the water. My kids adored the beach. Nature or nurture? Both,I am sure. Salt air and sand are something ingrained in their lives and a symbol of their childhoods.

That little Jana was one handful. Loads of fun but always giving me a run for my money. She could out-stubborn me any day of the week. Those toddler years were trying as hell but damn what I would not give for just one more day of that curly-headed little whirling dervish.

And now she is halfway across the globe navigating the world as if she were riding her bike around the corner, “It’s fine mom, I’ll figure it out, don’t worry.”

Don’t worry?! Isn’t that my job?

Janny-girl, I am thinking that I just might have to save that little shirt a while longer. And no, you cannot still wear it even though I know you live tiny T’s.

Haven’t had enough of me yet? You can also read me at 50-Something Moms Blog. For photo enthusiasts, visit Leaving the zip code, photos from outside the comfort zone.

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Time to Cry Tuesday – Where the Wild Things Are

“Oh please don’t go – we’ll eat you up – we love you so!”

I can’t help it. That line kills me.

Every time.

To say that I have a soft spot for this book is an understatement. A few weeks ago I mentioned that my son hit send on his first college app as the movie commercial aired. Danny agreed to see it with me. Part humoring me, part his own nostalgia, I suppose.

Life takes mysteriously coincidental turns. As we were leaving to see the movie yesterday, I did a quick check on the college website to see his status. Miraculously, before my eyes, the pending status changed to…

All sorts of screaming, tears, and jumping up and down ensued (that was mostly me). And then we went off to see the film. (which by the way I LOVED, but by no means should you take little kids to see this).

Sitting there in the dark with my boy – watching this childhood fave come to life – was such a MOMENT. But when that last line was spoken, those words were almost too much to bear. In my head I thought, off you go, my son, on to your next adventure. But in my heart all I could hear was…

“Oh please don’t go – we’ll eat you up – we love you so.”

Congrats to my boy who worked so hard to get all that he deserves. And I want you to always remember that no matter where you go, when you come home to your ‘very own room’ you will always find ‘your supper waiting for you’

‘and it will still be hot.’

Haven’t had enough of me yet? You can also read me at 50-Something Moms Blog. For photo enthusiasts, visit Leaving the zip code, photos from outside the comfort zone.

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Time to Cry Tuesday – Childhood

Oak School #3. From tiny acorns to mighty oaks.

This is the sign that sits in front of my elementary school. Just to the left and below the bay window that was my kindergarten room. Inside was the window seat that I sat on and watched my mom walk away the first day of school. Back in the day we did not go to pre-k. This building housed my very first moments in school.

I can still remember the way the stairs were worn in the middle of each step. The way the cafeteria smelled – a cross between tater tots and canned string beans. The nurses office where I took my first eye exam and discovered I needed glasses; the oval baby blue kind (very Brady Bunch, indeed). The amazing Austin Powers style mole on my teacher’s nose. (seriously, we even had a song for it).

The school alma mater was never so deep as to mention acorns to oaks — that sign was added only recently. Yet I do still remember every word. One of the more creative lines:

When I walk to school each day, I stop and look and then I say, “Oak School Three, is the best. It’s really better than all the rest.”

I know what you are thinking, who was the genius that wrote those lyrics?

Why the corny walk down memory lane? Because two of my mightiest oaks of childhood were visiting this weekend from out of town and there is nothing more fun than doing the tour of the formative years with people you shared them with. These particular ‘oaks’ were my brother and his best friend since 2nd grade. These guys were the coolest. Four grades above me, I was lucky if they let me watch TV with them.

This weekend we all spent time together. Going to the beach, walking the boardwalk, hanging at my parents house. If not for my adult nephews to keep us in check I am sure we could have easily reverted back to being the kids in the house. Come to think of it the conversation at brunch was as adolescent as it gets.

Just when you think you are all grown up…

your not.

Thanks guys!

Haven’t had enough of me yet? You can also read me at 50-Something Moms Blog. For photo enthusiasts, visit Leaving the zip code, photos from outside the comfort zone.

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Time to Cry Tuesday-Nunley’s Ferris Wheel

Ever stumble upon a piece of your childhood and feel like your breath had been stolen? The sight of this old relic caused both Gary and I to stop in our tracks. Believe it or not, we grew up in the same town. Being way older than I – not really, but I like to say that – and having moved in his early teens, our paths did not cross until later on.

Both of us stood in front of this broken down blast from the past and realized that our very first experiences on a ferris wheel had been on this very ride. I remember exactly where it was positioned to the left of the doorway, just outside the main building that housed the carousel. And the little boats where right behind it. The thought of what was breeding in that water would make a modern day mama cringe.

Damn, that thing looked so big back then. And new(ish) for I am sure it had been around for awhile by the time I road it. 

Nunley’s was a sweet little amusement park on Long Island that seemed like a Six Flags to me when I was a kid. If you lived anywhere on the south shore in Nassau County, you knew Nunley’s. A promise to visit this magical place made everyone happy.

It was on its carousel that I first learned about trying to catch the brass ring. When you caught one your day was complete.

I suppose many are still out there trying to catch it again. 

Me? I was just happy to visit with an old friend. And share that memory with my husband. Who says you can’t go home again?

(FYI, this old baby now resides in front of Jordan’s Lobster Farms, another great south shore landmark. You might also like to know that the carousel has been restored and you can take a ride on it at Museum Row in Garden City)

Haven’t had enough of me yet? You can also read me at 50-Something Moms Blog. For photo enthusiasts, visit Leaving the zip code, photos from outside the comfort zone

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Time to Cry Tuesday – Meatloaf and Mashed Potatoes

Comfort food.

Everyone has certain dishes that make them feel safe. The tastes and smells that bring you back to your mom’s dinner table and remind you of what life felt like when it was simpler. Before the deadlines and the mortgage, there was…

meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Oh, and creamed spinach. That was one of those family dinners in my house that even my brother the vegetarian could probably still get nostalgic about.

Today was Monday, literally and figuratively. It was rainy and raw. Gary had to battle a lousy commute, Danny had tons of end of semester work and I was just banging away on the keyboard in the basement all day. It was a perfect day for meatloaf and mashed potatoes. (unfortunately I did not have any creamed spinach in the house). Jana will not eat anything with the word loaf in it, so we are clear to eat this delicacy until she returns.

Funny, two people asked me what was for dinner today and when I told them, they were both jealous. Meatloaf. The universal comfort food. (nice tagline). For me it is second only to rice pudding, but I reserve that for life crisis. Meatloaf is more the everyday comfort food, rice pudding is the ‘my life is on fire’ type.

So tell me, what is your comfort food?

Haven’t had enough of me yet? You can also read me at 50-Something Moms Blog.

For photo enthusiasts, visit Leaving the zip code, photos from outside the comfort zone.

Time to Cry Tuesday – An Icon

Sorry, third time in as many weeks that I am posting about loss. However, this one is quite different.

Sunday I had the pleasure (yes pleasure!) of attending a memorial service for someone who helped shape the woman I am today.  Actually, not just me, but hundreds of women through the 60s and 70s. This woman, Alice Sternin, was the director of the summer camp I attended. I have posted about this idyllic place from my childhood before, as both my children are fortunate enough to share in the legacy.

I have never attended a service where there was as much laughter as tears. The essence of this woman was described by countless speakers. Everyone in the room shared the same memories of this tiny woman who was larger than life.

People traveled from all over the country. Family and friends spoke. One after another, stories were shared that sparked long forgotten memories for each one of us . When her famous lines were quoted, the entire room joined  in unison. Treasured camp songs were sung and tears were shed for the loss, not just of this woman, but the childhood jewel this perfect place had been for all of us.

My daughter has had the good fortune to have had this same experience. The following is an excerpt from a letter I wrote to Jana and her girls at the end of their last summer as campers. This sums up what this woman built. And her legacy will carry on long after she is gone.

You are so very lucky to have this piece of your life. Camp is something that you cannot put a label on. There are no words to describe how you feel when you are with your girls. How the sight of the lake and mountains fill your heart in a way that nothing else in this world truly can. The essence of camp is ingrained in each and every one of you. It is part of what makes you who you are, and believe me, who you will always be. We are all beyond lucky to know these feelings.

Leaving is never easy.  All these years later I still tear up as I walk out of camp and drink in one last moment of the place I love so much.

Never, NEVER, take this place for granted. Hold it close and it will never let you down.  

Today, as I sat with MY girls so many years later, I felt the full weight of those words.

Here’s to you Big Al! The toughest camp director in the East. With the biggest heart! You will be dearly missed, but rest easy, your legacy will never die.

Haven’t had enough of me yet? You can also read me at 50-Something Moms Blog.

For photo enthusiasts, visit Leaving the zip code, photos from outside the comfort zone.

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Spam… A LOT

Allen Brisson-Smith for The New York Times

Am I living in a time warp traveling at light speed back to my childhood? Could Spam actually be back on the top of the food charts? What next, Velveeta – the spam of cheeses? Vienna sausages? 

Believe it or not, Spam made it to the cover of Saturday’s NYT business section. Andrew Martin wrote a comprehensive article about Spam sales in the down economy that gave me way more information than I ever cared to know about the grisly little cake of gelatinous gooey meat product. There were however some great factoids I have to share here:

1. They market Spam with the tagline “Crazy Tasty”. I LOVE that. I wonder how long they have used that.

2. Austin, MN advertises itself as Spamtown and has 13 restaurant with Spam on the menu. (Note to self: do not take Gary here, there will be no egg white omelettes, bagels with a schmeer or Earl Grey tea with honey) 

3. There is a Spam Museum where you can buy Spam ties (Rik, you need this account) as well as many other wonderful Spam gift items. The tagline is “Sure Beats an Art Museum”. I swear. I am crying from this. You should see me here in the command center, hysterical laughing. I am so easily amused. I MUST visit this place. Gary’s 50th was a trip to the Rock ‘n Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland. Same guests, please pack your bags in September, my 50th is going to be in Austin, MN.

4. Because it is vacuum sealed, Spam can last for years. They say it is “like meat with a pause button”. Ew, I am sorry, that is just not right.

5. On a recent day 149,950 cans of Spam were made on the day shift. That’s a hell of a lot of Spam. Perhaps we should start watching Hormel’s stock.

Some other products with soaring sales are Velveeta (I read that after I wrote the first paragraph, I must be a trend forecaster), pancake mixes, boxed mac and cheese, instant potatoes, Jell-O and Kool-aid. Wait, did someone just open my mom’s pantry cabinet of 1968? Are canned string beans on this list too? Do they still make Fizzies? I friggin’ loved root beer Fizzies. Anyone? Fizzies? Was it just me?

So, what? We throw out all that we have learned about healthy eating and go back to high fat and preservative foods to save money? Hmmm… cyclical. What’s old is new again.

Spam is the new fois gras. Honestly, they look the same to me. 

Since this post has made me nostalgic for my childhood days, I will leave you with one of my favorite Monty Python skits. Jeanne, this one’s for you babe. (email subscribers, click over the blog to watch this, it will make you laugh)

Haven’t had enough of me yet? You can also read me at Mid-Century Modern Moms and at 50-Something Moms Blog.

For photo enthusiasts, visit Leaving the zip code, photos from outside the comfort zone.

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Who Says You Cant Go Home Again?

The juxtaposition of these two signs struck me as rather ironic. Funny, this was the corner of Peaceful Valley Road and Back to Sodom Road… with a stop sign! Was that to make us think twice about ‘going back’? After all, we were driving down Peaceful Valley, what could be better? And we all know Sodom’s fate.

Surely a municipal group with a sense of humor.

Another weekend in the Adirondacks – for all those that missed me. My son co-chaired the annual charity event at his camp and we went back to spend money and… well, be proud.

For those who have not been reading along, my kids go to the summer camp that my husband and I attended. Besides the fundraiser it is also alumni weekend. Although we were amongst the oldest of the alum (by about 20 years I might add), it still feels like coming home when we are there. (No worries, this is no Sodom. Or Gommorah for that matter) The vibe, the culture, the love of place is so strong. And it feels identical to when we attended so many years ago.

When we hit the mountains, the air is different. It smells like home. It looks like home. In every way it FEELS like home.

So in my book, you can go home again. 

Now file this next picture under ‘these guys really had a sense of humor’. This is the corner of A. Hitchock and Peaceful Valley Road. 

I could not resist walking down this block to look for the Bates Motel.

No Luck.

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